


A New Nightmare

by spring_moons



Category: Silent Hill (Video Game Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dream Sex, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Silent Hill 4: The Room - Freeform, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-24 11:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12011391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spring_moons/pseuds/spring_moons
Summary: After the ordeal Eileen and Henry suffered through, having nearly lost their lives at the hands of the deadly, cult-driven serial killer Walter Sullivan and his hellish alternate reality, the two of them are more than happy to settle down together in room 303 and start a normal, pleasant life. Things are going good for the two, and it seems that they may be able to put the past behind them at last.But it isn't over.Because Walter put so much love into, and was so devoted to, his "Mother," the apartment did become...."alive."And "she" wants her "son" back.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the lack of fics lately! I'm going to do my very best to fix this lack of content, I promise.
> 
> In case you were wondering, this is based off of the "Escape" ending. since James is in here as well, his story is based off the "Leave" ending. Don't know where Laura is, though; let's just say she didn't come back with him, yeah?
> 
> I don't own Silent Hill or its characters; this is simply a fan-made work.

“There we go, look at you!” Eileen giggled, patting a blushing Henry’s solid chest, which was clothed in a pale blue-and-white striped shirt. “Wearing something that isn’t all drab and emo. You look good!”

Henry grinned and shook his head. “You’re not gonna be satisfied ‘till you make me wear the rainbow, aren’t you?”

The young woman laughed warmly. “Don’t give me any ideas, you dork.”

After the hellish ordeal Eileen and Henry experienced, in which Eileen had very nearly lost her life, the two of them had become the closest of friends, practically inseparable. Henry was extremely protective of her, even though she was a feisty little thing and could hold her own, and she was just as protective of him in return. The only thing keeping them from a romantic relationship was that Henry didn’t, in fact, prefer women, and had been very shy and secretive about his sexuality before the woman had wheedled a confession out of him. She’d taken the news very well, despite having confessed her feelings for him, and in a way, they were both glad it wasn’t anything romantic; their friendship was a very strong one and neither of them wanted to do anything that would damage it.

Life had settled down pleasantly after their experience, Eileen moving in with Henry and giving his boring, rather dreary apartment her touch. Maintenance had taken care of Walter’s horrifying ritual inside the wall and remodeled the room, turning it into a spare bedroom for Eileen. The young woman had even brought home a little white kitten she’d found in a box behind the supermarket, fondly naming her Marie. To make things even better, Henry had pursued his passion and had gotten a job as a product photographer, and was comfortable with how much he was paid. Eileen was a preschool teacher now, her love for younger kids and determination to keep them happy fueled by what she had seen and learned about little Walter.

Henry was also now on good terms with most of the apartment’s tenants ((which he knew quite a bit about, thanks to Walter)). While a few of them still thought he was strange, he got acquainted with many of them, being labeled as “that nice, quiet guy from upstairs.”

Yes, life was good.

But, as everyone knows, good things never last forever.

* * * * *

“We are in need of a trip to the grocery store, mister.” Eileen piped up from the kitchen, eyeing the rather spacey shelves in the fridge as Marie twined happily around her ankles. Henry, lounged on the couch with his eyes trained on the television, huffed.

“Well, if somebody hadn’t gone through the ground beef with a vengeance, I could have made spaghetti or something for dinner.”

Eileen turned, jutting out her bottom lip and narrowing her eyes in a pout. “It’s not my fault I’m on my period and craving nachos something fierce.” She retorted playfully, closing the fridge and padding over to the cupboard, swinging it open and pulling out two boxes of Mac n’ Cheese with a small, victorious noise.

“I’ll make some of this, and you can run to the store tomorrow. It’s your turn, y’know.” She continued, hefting a small pot and filling it with water, maneuvering around Marie, who was feeling extra needy that night.

Henry shook his head, smiling, before he reached for the remote and switched off the tv. “If we have any bacon bits, toss those in there.” He called as he stood, raising arms over his head in a stretch. He heard Eileen scoff as he made his way to the door, stepping into his shoes and backtracking towards the counter to grab his keys.

“You and your bacon obsess- hey, where do you think you’re going?” Eileen pointedly inquired, turning from the steaming pot of water as Henry slid his keys into his pocket.

“I’m gonna go check our mailbox. It’s been a while, we might have something important in there.” He replied, heading to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Eileen nodded after a moment. “Alright. Don’t take too long, though.” She replied, before dropping to her knees and giving Marie the attention she’d been meowing for as Henry headed out the door.

* * * *

Nobody was out and about at the moment, being evening and all, and Henry’s trip down to the lobby was pretty uneventful. He could still remember how the apartment looked in the alternate reality and just the thought of that disgusting, warped place made his skin crawl. He forced that thought from his mind as he jogged down the stairs and rounded the railing, his heart suddenly leaping into his throat when he laid eyes on the man who was also checking his own mail.

James Sunderland.

Henry’s mouth went dry as the blonde glanced up, smiling warmly and waving a hand full of envelopes as the brunette shuffled over.

“Good evening! You’re Henry, correct?”

Henry awkwardly fumbled for his keys and managed a smile. “Y-yeah, that’s me.” He mumbled, feeling his face grow hot as he stuck the key into the lock and turned it.

“I’ve heard a little about you from my neighbor. You live with Eileen Galvin now, right? I heard about her ordeal on the news. It sounded terrible and I hope she’s alright.”

Henry nodded as he withdrew his mail. Nothing important; a magazine full of ads, junk mail, the usual. “Yeah, I do. She’s feeling a lot better after…after everything. Still takes meds for the trauma, though.” He replied.

James nodded, tucking his own mail into his worn green coat pocket. “Are you two, you know…a thing?” He asked after a moment, before he hurriedly added, “I’m sorry, that’s kinda personal…”

Henry laughed a little, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. I…I get it a lot. We’re just really good friends. I’m not really…er…interested in women.” After he spoke, he immediately wished he could take it back; openly admitting he was gay was something he did not enjoy, due to previous experiences. But instead of curling his lip in disgust or hurrying away, James simply nodded in understanding.

“Gotcha. Well, it was real nice meeting you at last, Henry! I look forward to talking to you again.” The blonde warmly stated, holding out his hand. Henry took it, feeling his face grow hotter at the sensation of the man’s hand closing firmly over his as they shook.

Heading back up the stairs, Henry pressed the hand James had shaken to his face, feeling silly for having such a childish crush on a man who was probably straight as could be. That didn’t stop him from longing, though.

He approached their apartment and turned the knob, stepping inside and taking in the warm scent of dinner, which Eileen had just finished and was setting on the living room table in bowls. Henry smiled, stepping out of his shoes and dropping the mail onto the counter, keys following suit with a jingle. Eileen straightened and hitched up her pajama pants, the blue ones with little pink bunny patterns, and turned to smile at Henry.

“You took a long time, mister. What were you doing down there, anyway?”

Henry plodded over to the couch and flopped onto it, taking the bowl Eileen handed to him and resting it in his lap. The warmth it emanated was homey and comfortable…Henry wondered how he enjoyed living without this. This company, this feeling of finally not being alone.

“I, uh…I ran into James. You know, James Sunderland from downstairs?”

The cushion sank slightly with Eileen’s weight as she sat down beside him, a knowing smile curving her lips and her eyebrow teasingly cocked. “Mm-hmm, yeah, I know him.” She replied, stifling a giggle as Marie loped slowly in, leaping onto the table and sprawling lazily out with a flick of her tail. Henry flushed and shoved a spoonful of the macaroni into his mouth, keeping his gaze trained anywhere else but the woman smirking beside him.

“Henry’s got a cruush, Henry’s got a cruuuush…” Eileen teased in a juvenile, sing-song voice, Henry narrowing his eyes and gnawing at his food as his face grew even hotter. Eileen teased for a little longer, before she began to worry that Henry was going to melt into the couch if she didn’t stop and instead focused on her food after one last snort.

After they finished their dinner and dishes were washed, they both lounged in front of the television for a little while, laughing at a rather stupid comedy Eileen had recommended. However, it wasn’t long before the young woman was dozing off curled up against him, fluffy-slippered feet tucked up by her butt and cat in her lap.

“C’mon, young lady.” He murmured playfully, shaking her awake for the fifth time. She grumbled and pressed her face into his chest, which was all warm from her snuggling against it, and tried to drift back off to sleep. Henry let out a smiling, exasperated sigh and stood, shooing the cat off of her and gathering her in his arms.

“I’m not a li’l kid, Henry. Don’t call me that.” She slurred drowsily as the man pushed open her bedroom door with a shoulder and padded to her bed through the darkness. He smiled as he flopped her down onto the floral quilt.

“Yeah, sure. I’m older than you, I have every right.” Henry smiled, dodging her lazy slap and watching as she squirmed under her blanket and nuzzled into the fuzzy pink pillow.

“Goodnight, Eileen.”

“G’night, Henry.”

* * * *

He’d stripped down to his boxers and was brushing his teeth before the bathroom mirror not long after she’d gone to bed. His eyes would occasionally stray to the bare wall beside the toilet ((the lid now encased in a fluffy pink cover, courtesy of Eileen)) and remember with a twist of his gut the hole that had nearly taken up the whole wall. It had taken him a good while to even shower in his own tub again, or use the dryer, after the grotesque splattering of gore that had been at both places. When he’d worked up the nerve to shower, he’d done it with the door open, just to be safe.

He shook his head to clear those foul memories and spat the foamy toothpaste into the sink, running the water and plopping the brush back into the cup before stepping out of the bathroom and closing the door.

Everything is fine. Everything will be fine. Everything is okay, Henry.

He told himself this on a daily basis, but the reminders never faded, and the occasional nightmare was brutal; he often awoke drenched in sweat and shaking, his face wet with hot tears.

But the meds helped; the little orange bottle in his hand was a blessing, the pills on his tongue sweet relief.

He locked the front door and turned out the lights, excluding the hallway light for both his and Eileen’s sake as he headed into his room and closed the door. Both of them were understandably afraid of the dark after their ordeal and had trouble sleeping if the light wasn’t on. Embarrassing, yes, but understandable.

He switched off the lamp and fell onto the bed, mouth opening in a jaw cracking yawn. Climbing under the blankets and getting comfortable, he lay his head on the pillow with a sigh and closed his eyes, waiting for the warm cloak of sleep to envelop him.

It wasn’t long before it did.

* * * *

__

_He was dreaming. He knew it. But when he sat up in his bed, the blanket sliding against his sleep-warm flesh felt too real, and the air felt…cold. Cold and heavy and almost suffocating. Goosebumps rippled across his skin and a sense of unease unlike anything he’d felt for a long time overcame him, drying his mouth and beading his skin with a cold sweat._

_Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and Henry did not wish to know what._

_But something drew him out of bed, pressing feet to the cool carpet and pulling him unwillingly towards the door. His hand closed over the doorknob and despite all his instincts’ screams of protest, he turned it and stepped out into the unlit hallway._

_A sound, like loud, cavernous breathing, surrounded him, deep and rhythmic and ominous. It was faint but loud enough, and Henry’s skin crawled. He longed to cover his ears, but something prevented him from doing so, and he found himself turning towards the living room on unwilling feet.._

_His heart skipped a beat, and the familiar, raw, hot terror engulfed him like flames as his eyes fell upon the man who reclined on his couch._

_No._

_Green-gold eyes, cold and predatory, never wavered in their piercing stare, and those thin lips were curved in that calm, collected, and damning smile Henry knew too well. Long, dirty-blonde hair hung to broad, heavy shoulders, and the collar of a bloodstained, thick blue coat brushed a stubbled chin. His arms rested along the back of the couch, hands devoid of any weapon._

_“Hello, Henry.” Walter Sullivan purred._

_Henry opened his mouth to scream, but all that his clenched throat could manage was a weak, pathetic rasp. His blood roaring in his hears, he tried to scramble away, to flee from the man who had very nearly killed him, but he was held in place by some unknown force and was left quivering in place and motionless. Walter watched for a few moments, before he got to his feet and prowled around the table, approaching the man._

_“You’ve been treating Mother well, dear Henry. That makes me so very happy…” Walter murmured, mere inches from Henry now, leaning down so their eyes met. Henry wanted to fall to his knees and weep, floundering in despair._

_No no no._

_“Mother has been telling me how good you’ve been, Henry. Telling me how much you love her…how you take such good care of her….” Walter’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, before a calloused hand reached up to gently cradle Henry’s cheek. The brunette flinched in disgust, but Walter’s thumb caressed his cheekbone tenderly...lovingly._

_“She wants me back, Henry. She wants me here, here with you, and Eileen…. but I don’t care about the girl.” The man’s eyes glinted with what could only be described as a fierce hunger; a hunger for the man before him, a predatory hunger that chilled Henry to the bone. “No, mother gave you to me. And I will take what is mine. I promise this.”_

_As Henry tried to pull away from the hand, that hand responsible for those twisted, terrible murders, Walter closed the distance and devoured Henry’s mouth in a fierce, hot kiss, metallic with the taste of blood. Henry’s whole body seized up in shock and repulsion, and he kept his mouth firmly closed and teeth clenched. However, when Walter’s nimble fingers curled to cradle his chin and painfully squeezed, Henry’s jaw gave and permitted access to the blonde’s eager, invading tongue._

_This was disgusting. All of this was. But there was no way to fight it, and he could do nothing but whimper softly as Walter’s kiss, full of teeth and tongue, crumbled his pride and invaded him._

_When the man finally pulled away, breathing hard and snarling faintly, Henry’s relief was short-lived as Walter seized the other man’s wrist in a painfully tight grip and pulled it to his breast, yanking open his coat. The brunette’s palm was thrust against Walter’s solid chest, and Henry went cold, numb, at the feeling of warmth…and the dull, steady thud of a heartbeat._

_“I’m coming, Henry.” Walter whispered in Henry’s ear. “I’m coming, and I’m taking what belongs to me.”_

____


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eileen probably won't take another shower any time soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfic is probably the longest one I have written in a long time, and I plan to keep it going steadily.  
> Those of you that came for the Walter/Henry smut, you'll have to wait until later chapters. Unlike my prior fics, it will be gradual and rather slow.
> 
> Anyway, I do hope you're enjoying this so far!
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, for some reason, italics aren't working, so the parts that are supposed to be aren't. My apologies!)

Henry awoke with a hoarse shout, tangled in his sheets and drenched in sweat. He was quivering from head to toe, and his heart was racing in his chest, beating so hard against his ribcage it almost hurt. But what frightened him the most was the taste that lingered thickly on his tongue and made him retch; the taste of blood.

His bedroom door swung open, making him jump with yet another cry, but it was only Eileen, bleary eyed and frightful. She didn’t say anything, already knowing what had happened, but instead hurried over to the bed and climbed in, crawling clumsily across the mussed blankets and wrapping her arms around his trembling form. He clung to her, burying his face in her slender shoulder and trying so desperately hard to push the vision of Walter, and the feel of his tongue and teeth, out of his head.

“Another nightmare?” Eileen whispered, her breath warm and soft on his ear. He could only nod, shuddering, not wanting to speak, not wanting to tell his closest friend what he had just seen and felt and heard. The same fear from months ago ate away at his gut like a mouse with wire.

“Henry...remember what you told me on my first night here? No more secrets. We tell each other everything.” Eileen sat back with her hands between her crossed legs, her face drawn, her usually sleek hair a halo of frizz, illuminated by the faint yellow light streaming in from under the door. Henry felt a sudden surge of love for her that was so powerful he felt dizzy. It wasn't romantic love; No, it was something that ran much deeper, something so fierce it ached.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and whispered into the dark, “It was Walter, Eileen. It was him.”

He heard the sharp intake of breath and couldn't bring himself to look at her face, but after a moment, he heard the bed creak softly and felt her small, soft hands close over his larger, calloused ones.

“Henry...what did he do?”

Her voice was a quivering, soft soprano, and her hands trembled against his.

“Please tell me…”

Henry’s stubbled jaw worked for a moment as he searched for the right words to say. How could he just outright describe to her what had happened? He contemplated simply telling her that he had caught a glimpse of the man in the fog of his consciousness, but the thought of lying to her left a sour, unpleasant taste in his mouth. So, he turned his hands to grasp hers, squeezed reassuringly, and told her everything, taking care to leave no detail out. He hurriedly stammered over the part where Walter kissed him, shame and disgust roiling uncomfortably in his belly.

When he finished, he opened his eyes and hesitantly glanced up at her, his shadowed, weary gaze meeting her shocked, horrified stare.

“H-he...kissed you?” She whispered, her plush lips trembling. “Oh god, Henry…” Her voice was heavy with tears, tears of terror and disbelief. “And his heartbeat...but he's dead! It's not possible...it's not….”

The man reached out and gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly and burying his nose in her sweet-smelling, soft hair. He felt her hands wander over his chest, then slide around him to clutch at his sweat-slick back, clutching as if she never wanted to let go.

“Eileen, it was a nightmare, that's all. He's dead, the ritual is dead, it's over. I promise.” And yet, Henry didn't believe his own words, unable to forget how real it had been; the wet heat of Walter’s mouth, the warmth of his broad chest, the steady thud-thud of his heart.

But he seemed to reassure Eileen, who pulled away after a moment and sighed, withdrawing one hand and running it tiredly through her hair. “I-I hope so. I don't think I can stand going through that hell again....” She gave a dry, humorless chuckle, before pulling away completely and flopping onto her belly where Henry had previously lain. “I doubt I'll get any more sleep tonight, but I'm staying with you anyway.”

A small smile curved Henry’s lips and he leaned forward onto his hands and knees, crawling over the unmade bed until he was beside her. Lowering himself onto the mattress and staring up at the ceiling through the darkness, he felt Eileen press up close, her hand reaching up to clutch his.

“See you in the morning, Henry.”

* * * *

They were quiet over breakfast on the couch the next morning, both still clad in what they went to sleep in and sporting dark shadows under their eyes. The television, displaying the news, yammered on about the “Copycat Walter Sullivan case” in the background, but neither of them paid it any heed.

“Thank god it's summer.” Eileen suddenly piped up around a mouthful of buttered toast, glancing at Henry, who was almost done with his bowl of cereal. “I don't think I could stand in front of a bunch of preschoolers like this. I feel like shit and I probably look like it, too.”

Henry merely grunted in response, his blank stare on the television, his hair sticking up in several different directions. Although, Eileen had to admit that despite the fact that he looked exhausted, those black boxers, the only thing he wore, fit him really well and left nothing to the imagination. Rosy blush blossomed across her cheeks, and she swiftly turned away before Henry noticed where her gaze was trained.

“Y’know what, Henry, I'm gonna go take a shower.” The woman set her half-eaten breakfast onto the coffee table, and Marie, who was sprawled across it, rolled over with a chirp, becoming very interested in the half-melted butter and snatching a slice before Eileen could say a word. She found herself unable to care.

Again, all she got in acknowledgement was a grunt from Henry, who looked about ready to nod off into his bowl. She sighed.

“See you in a bit, okay? Gimme a shout if you need anything.”

And with that, she stood and made her way to the bathroom, leaving just as the news reporter on the television solemnly stated into his mic, _“Despite the utter and baffling lack of evidence as to who the one responsible for these horrific murders may be, police are still investigating the case. More details tonight at eight.” ___

__

__* * * *_ _

__

__Eileen undressed quickly and tossed her clothes onto the floor, toeing them aside and spreading her pink, fluffy towel before the tub. As she stood and ran her gaze over the curtained tub, a shiver raced over her naked body and raised goosebumps, and not just because the bathroom was a little chilly that morning._ _

__

__Despite the blood and gore having been scrubbed off until the porcelain-coated steel shone like new and the walls practically sparkled, the room still had a certain….air, to it, an air that both Eileen and Henry felt whenever they stepped foot inside._ _

__

__But the slight greasiness of her hair and the feeling of uncleanliness that lingered on her skin was enough to make her push the dim unease aside and step into the tub._ _

__

__She turned the large dial and stuck her toes underneath the gushing water until it was just the right temperature, before she tugged up the stopper and tilted her head back as the water sprayed from the shower head, splashing against her breasts and shoulders and running down her front. It felt refreshing, washing away not just the sweat and dirt, but the unpleasant emotions hanging heavy in her mind. She sighed pleasantly and began to wash._ _

__

__She was just rinsing the strawberry shampoo out of her hair, eyes closed and head tilted back, when she suddenly became aware of something...odd. The water she stood under had gone from warm to hot, and while she dismissed this as the pipes simply adjusting, the water running down her body felt...thicker. And it splattered onto the floor of the tub the way blood would._ _

__

___Blood….? ____ _

___ _

___Why had that been the first thing she thought of?_ _ _

___ _

___She opened her eyes, confused, before they widened to full-moons of terror and she screamed._ _ _

___ _

___The fluid sputtering out of the shower head was not water, and some of it wasn't even liquid. Thick, crimson spouts of steaming blood and raw pieces of gore drenched and stuck to her pale skin and stained it an ugly, glistening red, pooling at the bottom of the tub until it was practically ankle deep. A hot smell of death and rotting flesh hung pungent in the already humid air._ _ _

___ _

___She screamed again, a hoarse, shrill noise, and floundered, scrambling out of the tub and onto the towel, the fluffy pink material clotting and sticking with the stuff already drying on her skin. Heaving sobs mingled with her cries of disbelief and horror as she stared at the showerhead, rattling with the pure force of the surging blood, and she barely heard the bathroom door banging open as Henry barreled in._ _ _

___ _

___“Eileen! Are you o-” He trailed off as he took in the sight before him; bloodsoaked, nude, sobbing Eileen, the blood gushing from the shower like a head wound, the _smell… _____ _

___ _

____“What the hell?!” _He roared, lunging forward and hoisting Eileen up into his arms, feeling her quiver and cling desperately to him, neither of them giving a damn about her lack of clothing. He didn't bother attempting to turn the shower off; he knew, somehow, that it wouldn't do a single thing.__ _ _ _

___ _

___Without waiting another second, he nearly sprinted out of the bathroom, slamming the door shut with his bare foot and staggering into Eileen’s bedroom. Reaching her bed, he lowered her onto it and fell down beside her, pulling her close and rocking her as she wept and hiccuped and trembled like a leaf in the wind._ _ _

___ _

___“Shh, shh, it's okay….I'm here, you're safe….” He murmured soothingly into her sticky hair, cradling the back of her head and moving his hand in slow, gentle circles between her shoulder blades. “We’ll get you all cleaned up, we’ll get the bathroom cleaned up, everything's gonna be okay…”_ _ _

___ _

___But he knew, and he felt she knew, that the words were empty, no matter how reassuring they sounded._ _ _


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry can run, but he can't hide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter already! Wow, I'm on a roll here!
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you guys are enjoying it~

"Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.” Henry spoke graciously to the plump woman in the doorway, who assured him it was nothing and that she hoped he got his plumbing working properly again.(His excuse for the rather strange request was that his pipes weren’t working.) After she’d bid him a good day and closed the door, Henry took the bucket of hot, soapy water she'd graciously lended him back to his own apartment and stepped inside, careful not the let the stuff slosh over the side and onto the floor. Avoiding a needy Marie, he made his way down the hall to Eileen's room.

The woman hadn't even bothered to dress herself or cover up at all in the time he’d been gone, and quite frankly, Henry didn't care. She sat cross-legged on the stained comforter and stared blankly at the wall, her finger tracing a small, shaky circle on the bloodstained skin of her thigh.

“Hey.” Henry spoke quietly, and Eileen cast him a glance, before turning away and continuing to stare at the wall. Sighing worriedly, Henry set the bucket down on the floor in front of the bed and pulled the washcloth he’d grabbed from the laundry basket off of his broad shoulder.

“I'm not going to do the cleaning up for you, Eileen. I might be gay, but you have to admit, scrubbing blood out of your nooks and crannies would be a bit much even for me, yeah?”

Eileen didn't say anything for a moment, and he noticed that under the blood crusting her face, she'd turned a rather cute shade of pink. But he waited patiently, and eventually, he heard her sigh in defeat.

“N-nothing wrong with….with hoping, is there?” She joked, her voice hoarse and unsteady. Turning and swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she warily eyed the bucket as one would eye a dangerous animal, as if expecting the water to blossom with crimson. To her relief, the water did no more than sway slightly in its bucket, still settling after Henry put it down. “B...but I'll wash up. Would you mind checking the bathroom? I'm too afraid….”

“Of course.” Henry replied softly, his tone sympathetic and understanding, before he turned, granting the woman her privacy, and stepped out the door, closing it with a soft click behind him. He worried about leaving her by herself after what had just happened to her in the bathroom, but he had reassured her that if he heard the slightest sound of distress, he would be there in the blink of an eye.

Swallowing hard, he turned to face the room in which the nightmare occurred and squared his shoulders, his face grave and drawn. The door seemed to loom over him, ominous and taunting, just daring him to take the knob and turn it, daring him to step inside his own bathroom and into the atrocity that awaited.

Henry opened it anyway.

There was….nothing.

The blood was gone, the smell was gone; hell, even Eileen’s towel was back to being soft and fluffy instead of clumped and soaked with the coppery stuff. The bathroom looked as clean and as normal as it had been for months.

Henry was baffled, to say the least. Disbelieving, he approached the clean, white shower curtain with muscles taut and jaw set, pulling it aside to bare the bathtub. He stared around the bottom of the fixture and the back wall, searching for even a single splatter of crimson anywhere.

It was spotless.

It was like nothing had ever happened, as if it had just been a grotesque, vivid dream.

“What….?”

As the man stepped back, his brow furrowed in utter confusion, the heel of his foot sank into something small and soft on the floor behind him. Startling, he whirled around, his gaze falling on the object in question.

He felt his blood run cold through his veins, and a soft, disbelieving curse fell from his trembling lips.

There, on the floor, was the doll Walter had given him on the stairs all those months ago. The doll that had once been Eileen’s, the doll that had haunted his apartment, and the doll that he had watched burn with a fierce satisfaction.

And here it was, here on the floor, completely unscathed besides its shabbiness; a result of being kept in Walter's pocket for years.

In spite of himself, Henry knelt onto the floor and closed a trembling hand around it, lifting it up to his face. Shiny button eyes stared blankly into his, its smile seeming to distort into a leer the longer he gazed at it. The feel of it in his hand, shabby yet soft, clad in a worn-thin dress, it's realness, reminded him that no matter how he hard he tried to convince himself it was some sort of dream, it was not.

It was then that the door slowly, tentatively creaked open, and the brunette jumped with a startled grunt, thrusting the doll into his pocket without a second thought. He sat up just as Eileen poked her head in, and the man watched the same expression of confusion, mingled with disbelief, cross her features.

“What? Where is all the…?” She pushed open the door all the way and nervously stepped inside, now clad in her striped crop-top and jean shorts. “Did you clean it up that fast?”

Henry snorted, rising to his feet and absentmindedly brushing his palms off on his jeans, unaware of the fact that his bare chest was slick with a cold sweat.

“I...uh...no. When I opened the door, all of it was just...gone. No blood, no nothing.” He replied with a one-shouldered shrug, before, after a moment of internal consideration as to if he even should, he slowly, hesitantly, pulled the doll out of his pocket. “Well, except for this…”

Eileen only stared at first, before she uttered a shrill little scream, backing out of the bathroom so quickly she nearly tripped over her own feet. “N-no, not that thing too!” She cried, her voice hitching on a sob as she fell back against the hallway wall, hands coming up to clutch at just-combed hair.

Henry hurriedly stuffed it back in his pocket with frantic apologies, hurrying out of the room himself and slamming the door behind him. She reached for him, the same way a child would, and he took her into his arms, holding her and stroking her hair until the quivering and hiccuping sobs ceased.

“I think we need to get out of here for a bit, and get you a real shower.”

* * * *

“Oh! What a surprise, Henry! And I see you brought Eileen, too. Come on in, what can I do for you?”

James’ sunny disposition was a much-needed relief, and the two of them just barely kept from flinging themselves upon him in joy. As the blonde man lead them into his own cozy apartment and shut the door behind them, Eileen noticed that Henry was doing his very best to conceal the ruddy flush that had spread across his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose. In spite of herself, she smiled.

“Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have coffee, beer, even tea.” James inquired as he stepped down the entryway and into the kitchen. The layout of his apartment was just a little different than Henry’s, but it was quite nice and homey.

“Just tea, thanks.” Eileen replied softly as she perched on one of the cushions, keeping her tone even and friendly. She was eyeing James right along with Henry, noticing that he certainly was eye catching, and sheepishly wondered if he was single.

“I could use a beer.” Henry chuckled dryly, lowering himself down beside her. “I honestly think Eileen could use one too, but she refuses to drink alcohol for whatever reason.”

As James prepared the requested drinks, as well as a beer for himself, Henry leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, debating whether or not he really should explain everything to James, and if the man would even believe them. He was very very tentative on the matter, however; if Walter was indeed, in some unexplainable way, bringing himself back, then telling their friendly neighbor from two floors down might just put him on the hit list. That is, if Walter was even capable of slaughter again. Henry dearly hoped not.

“Here you are, Henry.” James’s voice broke through Henry’s wandering thoughts, and he took the can of beer he was being offered, the condensation cold and dribbling down his fingers, dripping onto his lap. He didn’t mind, popping open the lid with a loud expulsion of air and a pop, the fizz of the beverage oddly satisfying.

“Eileen, your tea will be done in just a few.” The man assured the woman sitting beside Henry, before he sat down in the worn, pillow-adorned armchair across the coffee table and popped open his own beer. “Now then. What brings you two here? Not to be rude, but you did seem a little shaken when I answered the door, kinda like you’d seen...a ghost, or something.” He leaned back with a soft creak of protest from the furniture, propping his heels up on the footrest and crossing his long legs.

“Well, I….I guess you could say we saw something like that.” The words were out of Henry’s mouth before he could stop himself, and he could feel Eileen’s startled and warning gaze drilling into him. But now he had James interested; there was no turning back. No, he wouldn’t tell him everything, but he would tell him enough, enough to know about what truly happened in room 303. So, he took a sip of the beer, the coldness of the drink both startling and refreshing, and spoke in a tone that was low and almost weary,

“You know who Walter Sullivan was, yeah?"

James, surprised, furrowed his dark brow, can halfway raised to parted lips. “Yes, yes I do. He was that crazy lunatic murderer who committed suicide in prison, right?”

Eileen made a soft, dismissive sort of noise low in her throat, twisting her hands anxiously in her lap.

Henry set the drink on the coffee table with a muffled thump, the condensation trickling down the aluminum to form a ring on the polished, dark wood.

“James….what if I told you that Walter didn’t, in fact, kill himself in prison?”

* * * *

The silence that followed Henry's long and grotesque tale was so heavy and crushing that the brunette swore he could feel it. He heard every tick of the clock, the teapot bubbling from where it sat on the burner, and the soft fizzing of his beer.

“You're not fucking with me, are you?” James’ voice was solemn and heavy, and the expression on his face was one that confused Henry; it wasn't fright, or disgust, or disbelief. It was weariness. “Because if you aren't, I want you to know that you're not alone. Silent Hill’s left its mark on me, too.”

All three of them jumped as a shrill whistle suddenly pierced the quiet, the teapot puffing stream like an old train and rattling slightly on its burner. Eileen quickly got up before James could, maneuvering around the table and padding towards the kitchen. Henry, utterly and completely taken aback by the response they’d received from James, leaned forward again and pressed, “What...do you mean?"

James let out a long, deep sigh, suddenly looking a lot older than he actually was, and set his beer down on the floor by his feet. Folding his hands in his lap as he sat back up, he began. “Well, you see, my life was a bit of a shit storm before I moved to Ashfield, and some things I really don’t want to get into. But, let’s say, I know all about the cult, about little Alessa Gillespie, and Wish House.” He cleared his throat. “I also know that the whole town of Silent Hill is cursed. It’s not just one place, or one person….it’s the whole package. And I’ve seen firsthand the kind of monstrosities it produces, and how it warps every aspect of the reality you know.”

Henry swallowed nervously. The room suddenly felt chillier, and he felt a strange feeling tug at the back of his mind. He chose to ignore it, tapping his can of beer as Eileen prepared a small china cup of tea.

“But….I was here in Ashfield when things went to hell. It doesn’t make sense that I was affected all the way out here. I mean, yeah, sure, I vacationed there, but nothing strange happened while I was there, and I didn’t stay for long. The place gave me the creeps.”

James smiled wryly. “But you see, it wasn’t your hell. Walter had gone through Silent Hill’s horror, and had infected that apartment room with it, apparently. So you did nothing, and Eileen did nothing. It’s just how that damned place decides to work, I suppose.”

They lapsed back into silence as the woman returned to the living room, carrying a steaming cup of blackberry tea, pausing to glance from one man’s face to the other, before she carefully sat back down and quietly sipped.

“Well, I guess that answers your question as to why we showed up at your door.” Henry eventually spoke. “Eileen’s in need of a real shower, and I could use some sleep. We really hate to barge in on you like this, but-”

James waved his hand, cutting the brunette off. “You don’t need to worry about it. Rest up, wash up, do what you need to do. I would let you stay overnight, but I just don’t have the space.”

Eileen smiled gratefully over the rim of her cup. “Thank you so very much, James.”

“Of course. I’m just glad that I’m not alone.”

* * * *

James had insisted that Henry take the bed to sleep in, but Henry had firmly put his foot down and convinced the blonde man to let him use the couch instead. Of course, Henry couldn’t explain to James that the reason wasn’t just that he thought it rude, but that getting all comfy in the bed of the man he liked quite a bit would do more than just lull him to sleep.

So, James went off to go talk with Eileen before she hopped in the shower as Henry settled in, drawing his legs up and sliding one arm under the pillows he’d been given. Of course, he couldn’t ignore the fact that they smelled like James, but the scent was more reassuring than anything, and he could already feel sleep tugging at his eyelids. Sighing, he turned and buried his nose in the soft blue pillowcase, letting his eyes fall shut and slowing his breathing.

He drifted away into slumber before he knew it, the waking world slipping from his fingers.

* * * *

_The man blearily rolled over with a groan, discovering with a sinking feeling that he was no longer curled up on his neighbor’s couch; he was sprawled on cold, hard earth, the leaves beneath his back damp and slowly soaking into his shirt. Twisted, dead-looking trees loomed overhead, extending sparsely-leafed branches that resembled the gnarled fingers of an old crone into the mist-shrouded night sky._

_The man knew this forest. It was the one that enveloped Wish House. Well, what was left of it, after Walter’s little….incident._

_Henry suddenly sat bolt upright, glancing wildly around the grey-green shadows surrounding him, noting every idle rustle of a leaf, twitching every time a branch creaked overhead._

_This was a dream; just like the frighteningly realistic ones that he’d had before. And that meant that Walter was here, somewhere...somewhere in the shadows, undoubtedly watching him with that same, predatory look glinting in gold-green eyes. Just the thought sent unpleasant shivers racing down the brunette’s spine, and he quickly clambered to his feet, brushing at his bottom and as much of his back as he could with his palms._

_“I know you’re here!” He suddenly shouted into the muggy, humid air, slowly turning in place. Of course, he got no response, save for the chirping of crickets and the distant call of night-dwelling birds, but he listened for it all the same._

_“You can’t hide from me!”_

_Of course, Henry couldn’t hide from Walter either, it seemed. He thought he’d be safe once out of the reach of his apartment, but clearly, that plan had failed._

_“Who says I’m hiding, dear Henry?”_

_Walter’s voice, deep and taunting, suddenly rang as clear as a bell through the mugginess, and Henry startled with an involuntary gasp, whirling around so quickly he nearly tripped over his own feet. There was Walter, leaning against a tree, calm and collected and as relaxed as if he had been there the whole time, which Henry knew damn well he wasn’t._

_“But it's so nice of you to look for me.” The blonde pushed away from the tree, rising to his full, intimidating height. Henry desperately patted his pockets, searching for something, anything to use in defense, and coming up with quite literally nothing; there wasn't even a single paper clip._

_“You believed that by hiding in James Sunderland’s apartment that you'd get away from me? Henry, you should know by now...I have full access to this whole apartment building.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he began to step forward, as if they were having a simple, pleasant conversation. Henry, however, scrambled back, hands curling into fists at his sides. If he was going down, he was going down swinging._

_“Oh, Henry….why do you back away? Do you think I'll hurt you?” Walter’s lips curled up into a wicked smile, his stare seeming to pierce right into Henry’s soul._

_Henry balked for only a moment, before he turned, and started to run._

_Branches slapped and clawed at his face, sending bright sparks of pain dancing across his vision. But he didn't stop, his adrenaline heightening when he heard the swift, heavy sound of footfalls thudding behind him, snapping twigs and leaves underfoot. Walter was coming, and he was coming fast._

_He pushed himself, trying to go faster, ignoring the sudden swell of pain as a cramp clutched at his ribs. He was not going to be this man’s victim; his blood would not be shed, not tonight._

_The wind was suddenly knocked out of his already heaving lungs as a heavy, much larger body slammed into his, powerful arms encircling his chest and pinning his arms at his sides. He writhed, but he found himself suddenly rendered immobile as Walter pressed his face to the brunette’s neck, opening his mouth and snarling as he pressed blunt teeth to flesh. Henry let out a strange, whimpering little sound, squeezing his eyes shut as Walter hummed appreciatively against one of his tendons before moving to nibble at his throat._

_“This isn't so bad, now is it?” Henry heard the man murmur, shuddering as one of his large hands moved down and gently caressed his belly. “You're so warm...and you smell so good….”_

_The last word came out as a hungry growl, and Henry, already confused and frightened, set his jaw and squirmed._

_“Let go, you goddamned freak! I'm not your...your lover, you have no right to-”_

_A soft cry of surprise fell from his lips as Walter pressed hard against him with another growl, sinking teeth into his neck hard enough to break flesh. Feeling blood trickle down his neck in hot, thin rivulets, he panicked, desperately trying to break free of Walter’s grip as the blonde laved his tongue over the open wound, moaning low in his throat._

_“Other men might try to take you from me, Henry, but you know you belong to me.” He rumbled into Henry’s ear, the man stiffly shaking his head._

_“I'll be waiting. I'm very patient, Henry. So very patient….”_

_And then Henry woke up._

____


End file.
